One Full Set
by Sythe
Summary: Helen and Deneve of the Seven Ghosts became the Inquisitors by sheer accident. But these days with their linked youki, they are more a single entity in different bodies than seven people distinct from each other. Where one goes, the rest follow.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own neither Claymore nor the Dragon Age series.

 **One Full Set**

Summary: Helen and Deneve of the Seven Ghosts became the Inquisitors by sheer accident. But these days with their linked youki, they are more a single entity in different bodies than seven people distinct from each other. Where one goes, the rest follow.

 _ **Chapter 1: In Seven Pieces**_

* * *

1.

Having lived and battled together for a century or two, they knew each other like the back of their hands. Miria was the brains. Claire was the kid—a particularly stubborn one. Cynthia was the healer, Tabitha the mother, Yuma the defender. And then there were Helen and Deneve, the brash one and the overly cautious one. No cookies to correctly guessing who was who.

As it went though, the problem this time did not start with Helen. For all that Deneve berated her recklessness in battle and in life, Helen wasn't the one stupid enough to reach for that glowing, dubious looking ball from the equally dubious looking dude in the even more dubious looking robe (And stockings! With stripes! Helen saw!). Oh no sir, trouble this time did not start with Helen at all because at the time the ball went flying, Helen was actually holding up the poor old lady in the officious looking robe and pronged hat; and so her busy hands were kept from grabbing foreign object of questionable effect. The one with the free hands was Deneve, and seeing the glowing ball on a trajectory that would see it hitting Helen square in the head, the usually calmer warrior of the two, fucking martyr that she was, just had to go and grab the thing before it could land anywhere near her precious teammate.

And of course with their luck, it just didn't fucking end well for Deneve. Lots of lights and funky lightning with full zippy sound effects ensued. Helen didn't care much for the light show. She had seen worse during the Awakened Being war, but amidst the outrageous shrieks of the dude in the robe and his armored brethren, she could hear Deneve grunting in pain, and that was an alarming thing because usually it took an Abyssal One tearing her arm clean off for Deneve to start vocally complaining about her lot in life. And that funky ball with the trippy swirl and green light was making her grunt out loud? Alarm bells went off blaring in Helen's head the moment, and she did exactly what her status as the brash one in the group gave her license to.

Helen pushed the old lady from her unceremoniously, launched herself forward and attempted to yank the ball from Deneve's hand.

And that was how trouble started.

* * *

2.

The searing pain had two causes, Deneve detected immediately. One, because the ball was burning a foreign youki into her (and Helen's) hands. Two, because her youki and the youki of her six sisters in arms was swirling about in their mental links, churned and agitated and pulled out of balance. There was a sort of yanking motion going on as the two forces dueled, the ball trying to force something foreign into her and Helen's bodies while the youki of the five Ghosts absent from this place rallied to their sister's distressed cry and attempted to to keep the tainted youki out.

She could tell there was enormous power housed within the foreign artifact, could sense the untold eons of its age. It levied a crushing pressure on her and were she and Helen like the mortal races that dotted these lands, most likely they would have crumbled to dust. But mortal races they weren't, and the combined might of all seven Calamity War veterans was a force no less powerful than this foreign artifact.

There was maybe a minute of impasse between the unresisting force of the ball and the immovable wall of their combined youki before the implosion occurred. Dimly, Deneve sensed the ball's tainted youki being split into seven equal proportions, and through the link they maintained, seeped into the mind and body of her and her sisters. Then she blacked out.

* * *

3.

When Helen came to, the world was wrong and tainted and smelt nauseous, like the stench of a bloated Awakened One except… not. It was a vile place that defied explanation and comprehension so Helen did what her instincts told her to. She grabbed both Deneve and the old lady in the pronged hat and proceeded to bodily haul the both of them to the one place that smelt the least offensive in this warped world.

They were assaulted on the way with strange, shrieking creatures that shifted shapes—from the bugs that Helen hated to the vague silhouette of the Destroyer Parasites that plagued Deneve's dreams for days after encounter. Despite their grotesque appearances, they weren't particularly strong. Their forms and limited attacks lent themselves to far too many maneuvers. Had they been in a good shape, it wouldn't taken either of them more than a minute to clear the entire horde of them from this plain. But as it was, the tainted youki was wrecking havoc to their systems. Deneve—having borne seconds more of the ball's assault—was still out of it, so it was down to Helen to get all three of them through the cragged hill in the horizon and to the glowing slit that looked like a one way ticket out of this place.

Helen swung her claymore wildly with one hand while holding Deneve and the lady with her other hand and fought her way to the gateway, step by step. Things went belly up when she got to precious few steps away from the gateway. More of the things were coming and Deneve was not waking up and she was actually panicking a little. The lady stepped away from her hold then. Swivelling around, she pushed the weakened Helen with Deneve in her arms through the portal, yelling at them.

"Run!"

Then the screeching creatures closed around her and exhaustion took Helen. She just about registered the burned down ruins and fossilized skeletons around her before everything went dark.

* * *

4.

They woke at nearly the same time, with Deneve's mind tugging Helen's along with it, the both of them ascending to full consciousness. They were in separate cells apart from each other, but they had lived and breathed together for too long for mere walls to separate their minds from each other. Knowing the other was well (and so were the other five from the faint echos of their mental links) was a great relief. They could feel and see the taint of the ball in their bodies, in their hands, Deneve on her left and Helen on her right, but it was faint, subdued by their own youki.

It took a while more for two women of the local races, humans like the ones on their home island, to come in and attempt to interrogate them separately. They put up an admirable performance, but their audiences just happened to be hardened warriors who had gone through hell and back, and so their interrogators got nothing other than what Helen and Deneve wanted them to know.

One, they were Dalish elves of a particularly reclusive clan. It hadn't taken long for them from the moment they landed on this continent to learn which ethnic group was the safest cover for their true identity. Their appearance was a little too… distinct for pure humans, what with their hair and eyes and physical abilities. They were too tall to be dwarves and didn't have the horns of the Qunari. In terms of physical resemblance, their best bet was the elves. They had a similarly otherworldly look about them, and some of them already had the pointed ears. It was simply a matter of glued on tiny prosthetics and some face paints for the locals to automatically assume they were dealing with a band of elves rather than alien women from oversea. In terms of social construct, it was even better. The Dalish elves were a reclusive people and depending on the clans, can have vastly different customs and attitudes towards outsiders. Any mistakes they made can be easily construed up to the fact that they simply had a different way to go about things.

Two, they were warrior scouts of the clan, sent to check out a particularly interesting human event. Nothing entirely too suspicious about that.

Three, they had no idea what went down in that temple of the humans either.

Frustrated that they couldn't anything else out of the two, the humans, whose names were Cassandra and Lelianna apparently, changed their approach. They took the two of them out of the cell, freed their hands from the cuffs (not that they needed to be freed really. That metal looked brittled and rusted as hell! Helen was afraid to sneeze while having it on even), and took them out of the building to see 'what had happened'.

While they were out cold, it appeared the skies had split a big hole in it. That was… Helen could already feel the reproachful look Miria was bound to give her, regardless of the fact that Helen didn't do shit wrong this time around! Their orders had been to keep a low profile and not to engage in drawn out affairs with the locals. Well, as far as she saw, Helen could already see a high-profile (of the infamous kind) and drawn out affair in the future with these angry believers of the local religion.

It would have been easy to bolt the heck out of that place right there and then, but a furious conversation through eye contact between the two of them stalled their escape. It would be a cinch to outrun any of the warriors here, even if they didn't have their claymores with them, but the tainted youki still squirmed in their hands and they didn't know zip about it. From the echos of their mental link, it seemed the other five had also been afflicted with the same thing. The only way for them to learn more about… whatever this thing was… would be to stay with these locals.

So they fell in line behind the female human warrior Cassandra and turned a deaf ears to her incessant complaints and accusations of their supposed part in this disaster. Ten minutes after, a bridge collapsed beneath their feet. Cassandra was suddenly the only armed one facing off against a slew of the local demons. For but the briefest second Helen debated letting the human warrior do her things while she stood around watching… not like any of these things could hurt her if they tried… but then one of the thing decided to zap her with a sparkling bolt thingy and Helen just had to retaliate… by spearing it with a puny human sword right through its mother-licking head. It died in the blink of an eye, but the damage was done. Helen's hair, still short but meticulously kept, was a fluff of frizz courtesy of the static in that thing's bolt. She was pissed and the thing had died way too quickly and too easily for her to cool off. So, with multiple puny human swords in one hand, Helen started mowing down all the monsters in ice plains by spearing them all in the head while screaming "Go lick a yoma, you mother-licking bugs!" at the monsters.

The moment the ice plain was clear, Cassandra was in her face, demanding her to put down the sword. Deneve was right beside her then, with a sword of her own in hand, and in a placating voice attempted to reason with Cassandra.

"You're going to have to trust us, human. You won't be able to get through their horde alone."

Cassandra fumed for maybe a second but Deneve had stared down way too many Awakened Beings for a human to even make an impression on her.

* * *

5.

The apostate elf set the both of them on alert the moment he made his presence known. For one, he was an elf and therefore had a better chance than most at blowing their cover while on this continent. Second, he was a mage and apparently knowledgeable on all things concerning the Fade, one of which was the mark on their hands.

'Should we kidnap the guy and make a run for it?' Helen communicated across a glance of her eyes.

'Not yet. He sounds like he might know what's going on with us, but fixing this thing may require resources neither we nor he have. The human group sound like they need our help. Staying with them for now will give us the better chance of fixing whatever has gone wrong with our sisters. Let's stay for now,' said Deneve in a minute twitch of her eyebrow, the one facing away from Helen.

The dwarf was a possible leak if they stayed on too long though, and so at the back of her head Deneve started filing away contingency plans in case they needed to silence him permanently… or something.

"So you're Solas!" said Helen, smiling broadly at the elf mage while holding out her hands as if inviting him in for a hug between kinsmen. "Fancy seeing you here. I reckon we're going to have a long and mutually beneficial relationship ahead of us."

"... me thinks you better watch your back, Chuckles. This one has teeth, I can tell," said the dwarf. Automatically, Deneve upped his risk factor.

* * *

6.

The stinking prissy human male didn't like them. Well, tough licking luck. The temple where all their troubles started was now a glassed ruin, that was… a little more worrying. Learning that their marks were connected to the rifts in the skies and likely would not go away until they were all closed up? That took the cake in in terms of fucked up problems of the week.

One energetic bout of puny sword throwing from Helen and strongarming from Deneve later, they were down one dead Pride Demon. Then they raised their hands in unison at the tear in the skies and together attempted to pull it close. It went dark a third time.

When they woke up, the humans had done a complete one eighty in attitude. With cries and whispers of 'Blessed Duo! Did you see the twin heralds of Andraste?' behind their back, they made their way to the big, important looking building at the back of the village. There, they found the prissy old priest throwing a fit and Cassandra and Leliana not putting up with him. Some words thrown back and forth later, the two of them were suddenly at the center of attention of what appeared to be the four most influential humans of the area, Cassandra the Seeker, Cullen the General, Leliana the Spymaster and Josephine the Diplomat.

"Will you help us?" asked Cassandra, her eyes beseeching them with an honesty and vulnerability that made them feel at once old and guilty. These mortals, they were young and fragile. Everything until now had only been sort of nuisances to Helen and Deneve, but to these people, it was the end of the world. Honor had never been a founding principle of the Warrior Code, but each and every Warrior hoped to die with a human heart. They could not in good conscience turn away from these people, especially when their fates now seemed entwined through these bedamned marks.

'Miria is going to be pissed,' said Helen via the tiniest squinting of her right eye.

'No way around it. Forward is the only direction. We'll figure something out later. Maybe fake our own deaths after we beat the local big demons to a pulp and everyone is too busy celebrating to pay us any mind?', replied Deneve, blinking both eyes at once as if she was shocked into silence by the attention of the four important humans.

"If that's what it takes, then you have our swords," said both of them in tandem.

And that was how Helen and Deneve of the Seven Ghost became the Inquisitors of the new Inquisition.

* * *

 **End Chapter 1**

* * *

1/ This fic is supposed to be a fun romp into the premise of 'The Seven Ghosts become the Inquisitors and attempt to hide their strength by trying not to kill demons and red templars too quickly and easily'.

…

..

…

.. Okay. I kid. I kid. I just want to screw up the Dragon Age universe by throwing uber powerful half-human Claymores at it is all. Honest to God!

2/ Most likely no romance in this fic, only a lot of badass Claymore warriors and their slightly creepy Awakened Forms.

3/ In terms of timeline, it's post ending for Claymore (around one century after the ending), and right at the beginning of the game.

4/ The rest of the Seven Ghosts (and yes, Tabitha is alive. I'll explain that later) will arrive in the next chapter. We will also have the POVs of other people like Cassandra, Leliana, and Varric concerning the Claymores (weirdest band of elves they have ever seen yet).


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own neither Claymore nor the Dragon Age series.

 **One Full Set**

Summary: Helen and Deneve of the Seven Ghosts became the Inquisitors by sheer accident. But these days with their linked youki, they are more a single entity in different bodies than seven people distinct from each other. Where one goes, the rest follow.

 _ **Chapter 2: Sneaky Little Elf**_

* * *

7.

In all fairness, neither of them became the Inquisitors at that moment. That would be a while later, after many, many battles against demons, shades, undead creatures, local monsters, tainted templars, mages gone mad, and one particularly cranky pet dragon. But they were on the path to becoming it. The marks, it appeared, held a strategic importance in this entire messed up affair. Without them, the reborn Inquisition wouldn't have come to be.

While things calmed down around camp and the four important humans were taking a brief downtime to tabulate what was what and who remained standing after the big blow up, Helen and Deneve went about acquainting themselves with Haven.

The first time around, they hadn't been able to get a very good look at the town itself. It was nighttime and dark, and the thin mountain air didn't carry the light of a burning torch as far as they would have liked. Besides which, they had been more concerned with sneaking in and seeing what the hubbub was about than sightseeing.

Helen's first impression of it?

"Check it out, Deneve! It's like the holy city Rabona… only… smaller… and poorer.. and smellier…" scrunching up her nose at the scents that were assaulted her nostrils, Helen grumbled. "Come to think of it, it's not like Rabona at all except for the big religious building and the pompous religious people. No, even Rabona religious people aren't this flamboyant." She pointed at the various red and white garbed people wearing elaborate pronged hats and head scarves.

"We should check out the people the sister mentioned," said Deneve, by now too used to Helen's ever-changing moods and hyperactiveness. "The herbalist, the quartermaster, and the blacksmith."

"Our swords are at the blacksmith's aren't they?" replied Helen with a bounce and a wicked smile on her lips. "Let's go get em!"

Their claymores were indeed in the blacksmith's rather reverent hands. The man, who was tall and brawny for a human, fixed the both of them with a critical eye before fielding his questions. "You two? You are the owners of these beauties?"

Their claymores were on a long table at the back of the smithy and the blacksmith's hands were held protectively over them. If it weren't for the fact that most humans couldn't wield one of these claymores unassisted, Helen was sure the guy would have run off with one of their girls. He had that crazed look in his eyes, like a dog that had fixed its gaze on a particularly juicy piece of bone and was not about to let go without the use of excessive force.

"You got a problem with that human?" said Deneve, putting extra stress on the word 'human'. In this world of the many races, there was an undercurrent of racism and bigotry. The fact that she and Helen both appeared and played the part of Dalish elves, a much discriminated race in this land, but at the same time seen as the saviors their Maker sent had created a stir of guilt and fear of holy retribution in not a few of these humans. When before they would not think twice about calling an elf a knife ear, now they scrambled to apologize and make up for make-believe transgressions. Deneve was not above using that to quickly settle a brewing argument.

"I! I didn't mean that… my… my ladies…" As Deneve thought, the blacksmith relented immediately, a look of bemused panic and embarrassment on his face. "I simply… I mean. These swords… these great swords… are works of art!"

There were a crowd around them now, drawn by the sight of two silver eyed 'elven' women and the flustered smith. Helen saw who looked to be two of the four human VIPs back at that meeting. What were their names again? Cassandra and Cullen. Right.

"These blades. The edge. The balance. The grip," the blacksmith ran a hand along the spine of the claymores, his voice growing comically simpering for his tough appearance. "These are the works of a master blacksmith! And the metal alloy. I have never seen anything like it before! None of my tools would make even a dent! Not even in the best shops in Val Royeaux! I must know who made these!"

Indeed, when put next to the human swords in the small smithy, their claymores stood out like diamonds in a heap of rough coals. Their sheer size and sharpness, the cold blue sheen that shone from their blades, and the intricate craftsman work that went into making them. As to the metal alloy, of course it was nothing this blacksmith had seen before, being a metal unique to the mainland they were trying to locate out in the open sea. But they couldn't exactly tell that to these humans. So instead, Helen clucked her tongue casually.

"It's a secret Dalish sword crafting technique and the alloy is something only we can produce. You think we can just hand out clan secrets to strange humans willy nilly? These were made for our hands alone."

"But…" protested the smith, whose name was Harrit if the admonishments from the people standing around for him to return the swords to the Twin Heralds already were anything to go by. "But… these swords are so heavy it took two grown men to even lift one of them." He demonstrated by closing both hands around the handle of Deneve's claymore and made to lift them. The claymore went up for maybe a couple inches even as the smith's biceps bulged as he huffed and puffed and then hovered for a minute until the smith's arms gave out under the strain, leaving the sword to drop down the table with a dull, heavy thud.

The crowd around them twittered with amazement and curiosity. They had now stopped telling the smith to relinquish the swords back to their owners. Curiosity tinged their murmured voices and Helen could hear, quite clearly with her super senses, some of them talking of how thin their arms were and how could a slight elven woman even hoped to swing a sword that took two grown human men to lift off the ground. A couple, she saw, cast doubtful glances at them from the corner of their eyes.

"If you really are the owners of these swords. If they were truly made for your hands, then I want to see it with my own eyes. Prove it to me at least!" said the smith, not with accusation in his voice but mere earnestness.

Helen and Deneve exchanged a glance.

 _If we do this, our Dalish elf cover will look pretty flimsy… I don't know that much about the Dalish but I'm pretty sure their women can't lift our claymores._

 _No way around it. This crowd won't disperse if we don't give them a show. Well, we did hear strange things about hermit Dalish clans and their blood warriors. Who's to tell on us?_

With that decided, Deneve took a step forward, prompting the smith to back off instinctively. She turned a stoic gaze on him and the crowd of gawkers around them.

"Don't be so arrogant human. Just because you can't do it, you think other people won't have a chance of doing it? That's so funny it makes me want to puke. We are warriors of clan Lavellan…"

Her hand closed around the slim handle of her claymore—the weight of the great sword, unbearable to the normal races of this land with the exception of the infamous Qunari giants perhaps, was an old friend in her hand—before effortlessly lifting it up clean off the table and into the air before the eyes of everyone around them. She swung it a couple times with one hand, making sharp whistling sounds that told of the sword's sharpness, before thrusting it right before the face of the speechless blacksmith.

"... And these are our claymores."

Helen's voice behind her was obnoxiously loud on the dead quite backdrop of the stunned crowd.

"What a show off!"

* * *

8.

With the familiar weight of their claymores on their back again, they walked circles around the small mountain town, making periodic stops at the quartermaster table and the alchemist's shed to pick up some errands and familiarize themselves with the townsfolk.

It was in the alchemist's shed that they lingered for a little longer than usual. Due to a shortage of manpower and the death of the herbalist before him, the alchemist, whose name was Adan, acted also as the main healer of the small village.

"You… did you touch us when we were unconscious?" Deneve beat straight to the punch the moment Helen closed the door behind them. She did not point her gargantuan blade, drawn and ready at her side, at him, but the sharp tone of her voice brook no argument. After the orb and the sojourn through whatever twisted land that was, they were out cold for three whole days. If this Adan treated them, he might have seen their naked bodies with their distinctive marks.

Adan held up both hands in a surrendering gesture, scowling. "Hold your horses, ladies. I'm a scientist, not a perp."

"That's not what we asked dude," replied Helen as she casually draped an arm over Adan's shoulders, coming in too close for the poor man's comfort. "We just asked if you touched us when we were down and out. You know, removed our clothes and stuff. Nothing personal but our clan has a few pretty strict rules about showing the bare bodies to outsiders. We got them tats down there too and we don't take well to uninvited eyes, you see. Even if you ain't no perp. If we find that you did peek-a-boo and don't tell us..." she made an exaggerated slicing gesture that would have looked ridiculous if not for Deneve's sword which was now pointing in the alchemist's face.

"Answer the question, human," Deneve insisted as she brought the pointy end of her claymore a little closer, prompting a surprised squawk from the beleaguered alchemist.

"By the Maker! I didn't do anything! I didn't touch any of you! I gave you off to that elf right away!"

"That elf?"

"The bald one!" said Adan while trying to scoot away from the women looming over him. "The weird one! That one that came with you to the temple to seal the big rift in the skies! I'm not a healer but when they brought you to me I knew there was nothing I could do then. You... you both were wreathed in… whatever witchcraft those mages called! But the elf jumped in and said he could take a look and see what he could do so I washed my hands of the both of you!"

"Solas you mean. The elven apostate. Our… kinsman…" said Deneve as she exchanged a look with Helen.

"Yes! Yes! That one! He's your kind, right? So you should have no problems whether he sees what's on your bodies. Now please leave me alone! I never asked for any of this!"

* * *

9.

It was around midday that the other five reached out to both Helen and Deneve through the mental link they now shared. The pulse of their yoki trembled, not as weak as they were in the aftermath of some of the toughest battles of lives, but clearly affected in some ways by their encounter with the orb. Sitting down in the abandoned shack of the old herbalist whose research they were to retrieve for Adan as a gesture of peace and goodwill after having harassed the poor man, they closed their eyes and reached back to their sisters-in-arms.

The voice of Miria came first in the shared space of their minds. She was quickly followed up by the chirrups of other voices all reaching out, touching their minds, checking to see if they were alright. Their touches were gentle and warm, the touch of home and kin in a world of strangers and strange things.

 _Helen? Deneve? You are alright? What happened?_

… _It's a long story, sister Miria._

 _A long story? What did you do Helen?_ Tabitha's voice cut through.

 _I didn't do nothing! Deneve started it!_

 _Deneve?_

 _Sister Miria, I know you told us all to keep a low profile and avoid tangling up with the locals, but to be fair, we didn't ask for it. The humans started it first._

 _Alright, you two. Better start from the beginning._

They talked at length, starting from when they decided to scout out the human gathering in the now ruined temple, their surprise encounter with the woman in the pronged hat, the funny pinstripe stocking wearing yoma lookalike, their transportation to that other warped world, waking up as prisoners of the humans and the strange mark throbbing with foreign yoki in their hands, closing the rift in the skies, becoming the human's Twin Heralds, then their conversation with Adan regarding that sneaky little elf man.

There was a pause as the others processed the full story, each coming to her own conclusion.

 _I guess this means we're not going to leave this place for a while_ , said Yuma through the mindlink. _We all have the marks too, all five of us not at the site._

 _You do? Shit!_ commented Helen. _I was hoping it was just me and Deneve._

 _Clare, Tabitha. You're the best at sensing yoma amongst us. Do you feel anything we don't?_

 _It's… immense_ , replied Clare. It said something that they, seven among the warriors who had battled Priscilla the last and strongest Awakened One and told the tale, saw the foreign yoki as immense.

 _And it's growing_ , added Tabitha. _There seems to be a link between the mark and the rift in the skies. Whenever the rift grows, the marks in our hands will also grow._

 _I take it a big ass green hole in my palm is not good news then, huh?_

 _You would be right._

 _Shit! I wish one of these days I got to be wrong at the right time!_

 _The good thing is, we are all well and unharmed… mostly._ The soft voice of Cynthia came in as the gentlest of the seven ghosts pointed out the silver lining in their current dark cloud. _We have time to figure out what to do._

 _Yes, that is what we need to talk about. What to do from here on out. That elf…_ started Deneve.

 _You're positive he saw your bodies?_ asked Miria.

 _We were unconscious for three whole days in his care. He could have done anything. As a healer, it would have been wholly in his responsibilities to see to the specifics of his… patients. So yes, he must have already seen that which resides within us all._

The stigma that existed at the birth of all claymores. A wound that ran from the base of their neck down to their groin, held closed by thick metal sutures. If the elf Solas did indeed see their bodies, then he would undoubtedly know that their Dalish cover was nothing more than a lie and that they were something other than mere elves or humans.

 _It's safe to assume he knows our secret then. But he hasn't approached either of you nor has he shared his knowledge with the humans in charge…_

 _That elf is a sly, sneaky type, sister Miria_ , said Helen. _I can tell from his bald head and shifty looking eyes!_

 _Well, maybe he is. In the meantime, it seems this elf has the upper hand on us. If he hasn't acted on this knowledge, assuming that he had seen your bodies, it most likely means he has a goal different from the humans of this Inquisition, whatever that is. For now, don't confront him. We don't know what he can do. The orb was able to affect all of us and if this elf is in any way linked to it, then he may be hiding some secret power. It's best to pretend you don't know that he knows. Chances are that he will come to you soon enough._

 _And when he does, we will know what he wants and how to deal with him, correct?_

That sounded about right to Deneve. Reckless actions right now regarding the elf would do more harm than good. Then Miria said something Deneve didn't think she would ever say.

 _That's right. In the meantime, the five of us will make our way over to you… soon._

 _Really, Miria? All seven of us? The Ghosts? In one place? Are you sure the humans of this place can handle us? Did you know they freaked out earlier today just because Deneve decided to show off with her claymore? You'd think they had never seen a real great sword before,_ said Helen. Excitement and shock mingled in her voice.

When they stepped foot upon this continent, they had stayed together for maybe a month or two before splitting up in various directions to gather as much information as possible. They each were powerful warriors. Despite the many dangers of this new land, they had found that nothing short of a rampaging high dragon could stop them in their tracks, and sometimes not even then. So there was little sense in clumping up all seven of them in the same place. The link they shared meant that they didn't have to be in close proximity to keep contact with their sisters-in-arms, though they still abided by the same party of at least two warriors at a time. Months ago when they split, Helen and Deneve had headed for the territory of Orlais and Ferelden, eventually finding themselves drawn to the Mage and Templar Summit at Haven. Miria and her ever present shadow, Tabitha, were set for the land of Nevarra and the Free Marches. On the other hand, the youngest trio—Claire, Yuma, and Cynthia—chose to roam the islands of Antiva and Rivain, and last Helen heard, were trying to make their way past the border and into the Tevinter Imperium… with little success that was.

 _I don't see why they shouldn't be able to provided the problem duo don't go over the top_ , commented Tabitha.

 _You all remember our goal when we decided to leave the island and came to this land right?_

 _Of course! How could we have forgotten? That little island continent was our home for centuries. The little kiddies cried when we told them we were going to go and that it was unlikely we would return for a long time._

 _They are not kids anymore Helen. They are the last generation of warriors. They are all centuries old now too. Just because you are a dozen years older than them doesn't mean you can start calling them kiddies._

Even with centuries of good life, that island continent had eventually grown small and cramped for them, beings that lived without dying or aging. Eventually, they craved more. They craved to know more and see more. Their formation as brainwashed child warriors had restricted the humanity in all of them. With the organization's collapse, a yearning for life and knowledge had burst forth from the surviving warriors. Some had taken to religion, becoming nuns in the watch of Father Vincent of the Holy City Rabona. Others had taken up a life of scholarhood, learning anything and everything they had been forbidden from before. Some had even taken up jobs outside of their warrior training, becoming craftswomen, farmers, healers, cooks. Some had even found love. For the first time, they were free to live their lives as they wanted.

They had taken to life among the humans of the island well. Not wanting to be dragged into fights that had nothing to do with them, they had ignored the knowledge of the warring mainland somewhere out there in the vast, open seas. But that was centuries ago, and the seas with its secrets and its wealth of undiscovered knowledge beckoned.

They were the first to leave, the vanguard of their kind, simply because they were the eldest and most fit to explore the frontiers of this world. They were to traverse the sea to reach other lands out there, then they were to learn as much as they could without letting the locals discover their otherworldly nature.

 _Our cover as the hermit Dalish clan Lavellan has served us well, but it has its limitations._

 _Yeah, the elf thing. These people really don't like elves… at all._

 _We weren't able to reach many places because of it. But if, say the clan decides to send a cadre of its finest warriors to help out two of its own, it would not be out of place, would it? And these warriors, under the banners of the Inquisition, would be able to go places that as elves existing on the fringe of human society were not able to before. Also, I don't feel safe leaving everyone scattered with these marks on our hands. If we are to find a way to fix this, we will do it... together._

There was a moment of silence before Helen boomed in excitement.

 _Oh my God! Holy picky ravioli! We really are going to do it! All seven of us! Wrecking up stuff, kicking demon asses, and blowing the local's minds!_ She whooped and hoot gleefully and midway was joined in by Yuma and Cynthia.

 _It's gonna be just like old times! Oh, I can't wait!_

* * *

 **End Chapter 2**

* * *

1\. Next chapter: Helen and Deneve go about recruiting the companions and other people for the Inquisition, kicking demon and corrupted templar butts left and right, and desperately trying to hide how easy it all is for them. Meanwhile, Varric goes digging about the weirdest duo of elves he had ever had the honor of knowing, even for hermit Dalish. And then there's Solas…

2\. The Claymore swords are basically the longer and wider version of the Scottish Claidheamh da làimh. No ordinary human would ever be able to wield them much less with one hand with the kind of ease that the Claymores do. That's not taking into account that the metal alloy used to to create the Claymores is also especially durable (not sustaining even a scratch against Awakened Being armors and blades and still retaining their shape and sharpness even when they are fused inside awakened warriors ala Hysteria the Elegant, Raciella the Destroyer, or Priscilla herself) and weighs far more than normal metallic alloy. The Dragon Age Universe with its strange metals and ores (and dragon bones) may have some swords that can stand up to the Claymores (especially if they are charmed or embedded with runes) but nothing that Harrit could produce at the beginning of the game.


End file.
